


Molly Hooper Needs a Hug

by Pottergalval



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fix-It, It's just me talking to Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper Appreciation, Multi, Self-Insert, the relationship tags are kinda irrelevant here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pottergalval/pseuds/Pottergalval
Summary: I just wanted to write a self-insert fic so I could give Molly Hooper a hug. Because, seriously. What even *was* "The Final Problem"???





	

**Author's Note:**

> Molly Hooper deserves all the hugs. That is all.

Molly Hooper screams as I kick down the door, dropping her mobile on the linoleum floor.

“Sorry about that,” I say, looking at the wood splinters scattered around. “I know it’s a bit overdramatic, but you needed an intervention, my friend.”

Molly stares. “I- wha- friend? I don’t know you! What the hell are you doing in my flat??”

“That’s right, let out your anger! This is great! You deserve to be pissed! _Fuck_ Sherlock Holmes!!!”

That certainly got the woman’s attention. Her anger transforms into awe, and I use her momentary hesitation to snatch up her mobile.

“Yes, I know what just happened here, no I’m not going to tell you how I know. All I will say is that there’s a very good explanation as to why Sherlock did this to you, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t the shittiest thing he’s ever done.” I soften my tone. Breaking the fourth wall is probably a bit jarring for people, and the girl just had her heart broken. _Again_. “Molly, I’m so, _so_ sorry. You deserve every happiness in the world. You are kind, thoughtful, and absolutely brilliant at your job. But he’s never told you that, has he? Hardly offered you a word of thanks, though _you’ve_ gone out of your way time and time again to make sure he has everything he could possibly need! And now THIS--”

I stop for breath. It had become clear that I dropped way too much on the poor girl at once. The most she could say was a small squeak.

“Okay, hold on. Let’s turn this down a notch. I’m sorry, I just have a lot of feelings.” I pull a messenger bag off of my shoulder and set it down on the island stool.

“So I’m keeping _this_ ,” I wiggle the mobile in my hand before sticking it in an inner pocket, “until the morning. Tonight it’s just you, me, this bottle of wine,” I pull out a bottle of merlot, “and shitty medical dramas. You go get into some sweatpants, take off your bra, the whole shebang, and I’ll get dinner started. How do you feel about lasagna?”

Molly is still gaping at me as if I have five heads, but it looks as if she’s started to accept me as her guest for the next eight hours of so. “S-sure…lasagna sounds lovely.”

“Great. But first things first.” I extend my arms. I can see in her eyes the moment when she gives in. Molly falls into my embrace and begins to sob, finally letting the phone call and the years of neglect come crashing down. “Shh…I know. I know.” I run my hands over her hair and down to circle at her shoulders. “You deserve so much better than Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper. I know you don’t believe that, and frankly, he hasn’t really given you reason to believe that. But it’s true. You are so much better than he is. I wish you could see that. I wish you knew how many people want you to be happy!”

Molly sniffles and looks up at me. “Who? Who even _are_ you?”

“I’m part of a group that many refer to as ‘Sherlockians’. Don’t let the name fool you: we’re pretty mad at the show, um, I mean at Sherlock, right now. But one thing we can all agree on is that you are a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. Ooh! And now I know what we’re having for dessert!”

Molly’s laugh is muffled in my jumper. She backs away, wiping her face on her sleeve. “I don’t really understand what you’re telling me, and I don’t know why you’re here, but I do think I could use a friend right now. So, thank you. To you and your,” she giggles, “ _Sherlockians_.”

“No,” I say. “Thank _you_ , Molly Hooper. Thank you for being there for us for so many years. It has been such a pleasure. Now, go get changed. I’ll get dinner started.”

She smiles and turns towards her bedroom as I pop open the bottle of wine. “Well, my first mission was a success,” I murmur as I pour the crimson liquid into two glasses. “Next stop: to figure out how John got unchained in the well and fix that blasted queerbating.”

It was going to be a long week.


End file.
